I wrote this 3 months ago as assigned by my counselor. She asked me to write down what would be the reason to live.


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I think finding the reason to live is just like finding the right time to write this essay. I have been thinking, pondering, dwelling on this simple question ever since it was put unto me. I've given it much thought, but still have not the faintest clue on what to write. I knew,that if I continue to wait for the 'magic' moment to arrive, this essay will never be written.

Therefore, I suppose it's also like finding the meaning of life. If I wait for the answer to arrive, I will never be able to live a fulfilling, UNdepressive life. I can't demand for the answer. Even if there is such an answer, I don't think my mind and my heart will agree on it. My mind would demand logic and my heart would demand compassion.

Life, just like this essay, requires me to first make the effort to write it out and then perhaps I might be deserving to have a little peek at the divine answer.
Life requires me to live it, not question it. I may conclude life at my own terms, at my own understanding but, I still have to make much room for self-editing.

Life is too big and much too old for me to understand.

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Later, my counselor requested me to expand it.
And this is what I wrote.


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16-10-10
In my last essay, I equated how I felt about the title with my attempt on writing the essay itself. Although I had sidetracked from the title, I did express vague hope for what that might still be in store for me.
This assignment has given me unexpected outcomes. Firstly, I never expected compliments. Upon reading the last word of my essay to my counselor, I looked up to expect a blank look from her. I had thought that I might need to explain myself as I didn't know how to approach the essay at the first place. Instead, she complimented me. "Don't bury your writing talent."
Her approval prompted me to show my essay to a good friend M. She too complimented me, "I wish I wrote this." She even reread it because according to her, good phrases are deserving so.
I sat there in front of her, as she was reading, "Is my essay that good?Why am I not seeing it?" When I first attempted to write this essay, I had no clue on what to write and was doubtful of its purpose. Though I still can't see if my essay was good but I am definitely pleased that I have written it.
Life, again like this essay, may take many unexpected turns. I had anticipated criticisms for the essay but I received positive response instead.
My life, like this essay might be just as good if I take a different perspective.
Perhaps one day, I can learn to appreciate my essay.
Perhaps one day, I can learn to appreciate my life, and myself.